


A Practical Woman’s Guide to Beethoven Day

by obsessedwithstardust



Category: Peanuts
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Sort of? - Freeform, basically just fluff tbh, children don't know what they're doing and it's lovely, not super linear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27587807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessedwithstardust/pseuds/obsessedwithstardust
Summary: and Other Unlikely Compromises Forged in the Name of Fascination.--Little glimpses Lucy and Schroeder over the years.
Relationships: Schroeder/Lucy van Pelt
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	1. Of Calendars and Pragmatism

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoy this fic! I honestly never really expected to write a peanuts fic, but I'm a sucker for requiting unrequited love, so here we are! 
> 
> Lucy and Schroeder are probably about 11 or 12 in these first few chapters- old enough for Lucy to outgrow the inherent selfishness of an eight year old child, but not really be that influenced by external pressures when it comes to being a lady. Oh, and she's definitely NOT a woman yet, lol, but her mother calls herself a practical woman, and therefore Lucy must be one too.

December 16th.

Ludwig van Beethoven was ( _allegedly_ ) born December 16th, 1770. Lucy knew this because it was marked on her calendar in the form of a very detailed, very tiny sketch of one of the eight thousand busts she had seen of the composer over at Schroeder’s house. She also knew this because the first time she had forgotten it, she had been yelled at and then promptly ejected from the room via her future husband’s stupid toy piano.

Lucille van Pelt was born October 28th, 1949, and she knew this one because she was there. (Also her mother told her she was, and her mother was always right). Lucy had that date marked on her calendar as well, in the form of a rather simplistic doodle of a cake and some balloons. Why her own birthday received less fanfare than some dead bachelor’s, she couldn’t tell you. Lucy had honestly been trying since January (the month traditionally set aside for New Year calendar marking) to figure that out herself.

You see, Lucy liked to think she was a practical woman, and practical women simply did _not_ celebrate the birthdays of dead, deaf, _eligible_ starving artists. Violet was practical, and she didn’t have a realistic bust of _Brahms_ penciled into her calendar. Patty was practical, and she didn’t go to the music store three months before December 16th to put in an order on a rare volume of the collected works of _Mozart_. Lucy’s mother was arguably the most practical and the most womanly woman she knew, and she certainly didn’t sneak into the school music room after hours to spit out sour notes while glaring at _Mass No. 2 in G Major_ and trying to figure out _what all the fuss is about_.

But also, most practical women thought about love and marriage and being well off, and they always set about securing their future as early as possible- Lucy’s mother had told her this, and Lucy knew that she had checked all those boxes as best she could. In all aspects except Beethoven, she was a perfectly fine young lady.

With this in mind, Lucy refused to believe that she wasn’t a practical woman- she was just… a different kind of practical. For now. The kind of practical that, apparently, resulted from falling head-over-heels for a very impractical kind of man. (“Impractical men are men who never want to think about girls or love or marriage, men who will play with and all over your heart- so yes, _musicians_ , Lucille,” mother had defined).

She honestly supposed it wasn’t _too_ impractical, really, to want to understand. After all, if Schroeder chose Beethoven over her at each and every opportunity, then there must be something she could learn from him, right? And if she was to be his wife, then surely he would want her to somehow comprehend his first (and possibly only, but no dwelling on that now) love? It was only logical. It was in her best interests. A good, strategic option.

Yes- strategic, logical, _pragmatic_ , Lucy decided. She was a very practical woman indeed.


	2. On Idols and Materialism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the years rolled by, Schroeder found himself almost wishing she’d just forget it all entirely- heck, he was starting to forget it sometimes, and he was pretty sure it was a subconscious response to the immense headache that had become Lucy van Pelt on Beethoven Day.

It was the morning of December 16th, and Schroeder, once again, was experiencing extremely mixed feelings in regards to Beethoven Day.

On the one hand, _Beethoven_. It was his day. His day to be honored, and idolized, and pondered, and everything that came along with the hero worship Schroeder loved indulging in. Today was _Beethoven Day_ \- Beethoven’s _Day_ \- and Schroeder was buzzing at the mere concept. It never got old.

On the other hand, there was an aspect of Beethoven Day that seemed to grow exponentially older each passing year, and that aspect was, of course, _Lucy_. Lucy, who never seemed to understand his reasons for honoring and idolizing and pondering. Lucy, who seemed to associate the holiday with something akin to Christmas or Valentine’s Day or just someone’s- anyone’s- birthday. Lucy, who couldn’t seem to even begin to comprehend the celebration of someone past the exchange of gifts and the consumption of cake. Early on, he supposed, he appreciated the effort.

That first time she had remembered had been genuinely wonderful. It had felt as if, for the first time in his life, someone had heard him singing and tried to match the note. But as the years rolled by, Schroeder found himself almost wishing she’d just forget it all entirely- heck, he was starting to forget it sometimes, and he was pretty sure it was a subconscious response to the immense headache that had become Lucy van Pelt on Beethoven Day.

By the time his mental tirade was over, Schroeder realized that he was already dressed and downstairs, halfway to the door. He reached out to open it, pulling his book bag over his shoulder, when the doorbell rang.

Schroeder stopped dead in his tracks. It was Beethoven Day, and someone was at his door before seven am. Schroeder’s hand was frozen on the doorknob- some piece of his fickle artist soul was screaming at him not to turn that knob. _You know who it is, Schroeder! Not this year, not again! You need to protect the sanctity of Beethoven Day!_

But knowing who was on the other side of that door was exactly what moved his hand in the end. Because Lucy was Lucy, and Schroeder was Schroeder, and no matter how irritating and exasperating she got, for some reason, him letting her in anyways had become a universal constant. If he were more cynical he might call it “giving up.” If he were less cynical, he might call it something he could never let Lucy hear, lest she take it as undeniable proof of their fated future together.

Whatever it was, it was the reason Schroeder swung open the door at six fifty-three am on a Monday morning, knowing full-well that the bane of his existence was waiting on the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I'm not sure if this really fits in with every Beethoven day comic out there (it ran through a lot of Decembers, man). Really the most important ones in this context are the one with the cupcake, and all the ones where Lucy tries to kiss him and/or wheedle gifts out of him. So, the majority of them, I suppose!


	3. Of Earnest Thoughts and Halfway Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schroeder was quite sure that, over all the past December 16ths, never once had Lucy ever quietly given him anything that was actually related to the composer himself. More often than not, she had done the opposite, and demanded several unrelated gifts very loudly. Schroeder supposed it was only fair for him to be confused, considering this was an event he had never even thought to account for.

Apparently, Schroeder hadn’t known full-well what was on the other side of his door, because the girl on his front porch bore shockingly little resemblance to the usual neighborhood fussbudget.

The Lucy he saw this morning was several things Lucy often was not- bright red, anxiety-ridden, and perhaps most worryingly, silent. Her eyes were darting practically everywhere that wasn’t him, and she was holding a large tome of a book out in front of her as though it was the final defense between her and some mythical beast. He was so confused it took him a moment to even process the words on the cover, but once he did he was even more lost. _The Life and Times Ludwig van Beethoven_.

Schroeder was quite sure that, over all the past December 16ths, never once had Lucy ever quietly given him anything that was actually related to the composer himself. More often than not, she had done the opposite, and demanded several unrelated gifts very loudly. Schroeder supposed it was only fair for him to be confused, considering this was an event he had never even thought to account for.

Lucy, however, seemed to be frustrated by his lack of response, because after a good minute and a half of shocked silence, she blurted out “What?! What is it?! Do you own this one already?!”

That was enough to jolt Schroeder back into the world of the living. He shook his head slowly, as though shaking off the daze of confusion, and reached out for the book. Shaking hands brushed his as he grabbed hold of it, and once she was sure he had a grip on it, Lucy pulled back as though she’d been burned. Schroeder couldn’t help but snicker a bit at how ridiculous it was- the girl had been prattling on about marriage and saucepans for as long as he’d known her, and _this_ was what finally made her embarrassed?

She huffed and glared at the ground, and Schroeder decided to spare her nerves in favor of examining his new treasure. It was certainly high-quality: well-bound with a glossy, oval portrait of the composer on the front. The title was in a very foreboding, academic font, glaring studiously from above the picture of Beethoven, but the inside seemed a bit more welcoming, with a few scattered illustrations, and pages upon pages of information regarding his hero’s life.

He wondered how many allowances this had cost. Definitely not just a week’s. Maybe more than a month's.

He wondered how far ahead she had bought it. Had it been yesterday, after he had sent her hurtling from the room with his piano? Or maybe two weeks ago, when he had said she might be the most unpleasant person he had ever laid eyes on? He gulped. It was just what he wanted, and at the same time, it was far too much.

“Schroeder?” Lucy’s voice was simultaneously gruff and tentative. “Do you, uh- Well do you like it?!” Schroeder almost asked what her shoes had done to her to make her scowl at them like that, but the book was heavy in his hands, and he bit his tongue.

“Yeah, Lucy. It’s wonderful.”

The tension bled out of her shoulders, and she jerked her head up to meet his eyes. Slowly, that determined, lovesick, “say you and I got married” smile split her face in two, and Schroeder could breathe a little easier.

“Well of course it is! I picked it, didn’t I?! Would I spend that much allowance on a shoddy gift, hmm? Of course not!”

Schroeder let himself grin, nodding along. “Of course not, Lucy. Thank you, really. I love it.”

“And you’re not being sarcastic?”

“No, Lucy, I mean it this time.”

Lucy didn’t seem to know what to do with a sincere Schroeder, so she just gave a stilted nod back, and let out a strangled “Well! Good!” Schroeder used her internal crisis time to check his watch. Seven ten. School wasn’t ‘till eight-thirty, and the walk was only ten minutes anyways.

He was probably going to regret this tomorrow. Or even in an hour, on the walk to school. But she _had_ been genuinely trying. And he really did appreciate it.

“Say, Lucy, would you like to come in? I was going to play something before school, and I think Beethoven deserves an audience.”


	4. Happiness is... a Calm Sister? (Linus Interlude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usually, when something went south for his sister (oftentimes a problem that Linus found genuinely incomprehensible), she would swing hard in the direction of “crabby,” then pass it entirely and run right on into genuine anger. This time, though, whatever happened had vaulted Lucy’s mood straight in the other direction. She wasn’t crabby, or frustrated, or irate or annoyed or downright pissed- she was calm.
> 
> Somehow, Linus found this way scarier.

It had officially been a week since December 16th, and Lucy was still acting off.

Not _normal_ off, either. Usually, when something went south for his sister (oftentimes a problem that Linus found genuinely incomprehensible), she would swing hard in the direction of “crabby,” then pass it entirely and run right on into genuine anger. This time, though, whatever happened had vaulted Lucy’s mood straight in the other direction. She wasn’t crabby, or frustrated, or irate or annoyed or downright pissed- she was _calm_.

Somehow, Linus found this way scarier.

“Linus!” came a voice from the kitchen, interrupting his slight catastrophizing. And, well, speak of the devil (or rather, the suspiciously-even-tempered sister).

Lucy came trotting into the living room with a sandwich and a steaming cup of what was hopefully hot cocoa, holding both out for Linus to take. She was _humming_. Linus hadn’t felt this terrified in years.

He shakily reached for the food, moving deliberately slowly so that she could have a chance to berate him if she liked- for not showing proper brotherly gratitude or something of a similar nature- but she only closed the gap, holding them out to him further. Linus decided sometimes it was best not to look a gift lion in the mouth, and quickly snatched the plate and mug.

“Thank you Lucy, this is awfully nice. What’s the occasion?” Did she lose a bet? Beethoven day was about a week ago, so it definitely wasn’t that. Unless, of course, it was somehow _still_ that?

Lucy giggled- _giggled_ \- and rolled her eyes. “Oh what, can’t a big sister do something nice for her little brother now and then?” 

Linus wanted to point out that, in his experience, the answer was _no, not unless she’s charging a nickel, or screaming the whole time_ \- but figured it may be more beneficial to his health to keep his trap shut. However nice Lucy was being currently, it didn’t change the fact that she naturally kept at least five good counter arguments handy at all times. And besides, if Lucy wanted to turn over a new leaf, who was he to stop her?

He distractedly munched on the sandwich- peanut butter and _honey_ , so she _did know his favorite-_ as he watched her walk away without so much as a glance at the remote, or a word about the program he was playing. He couldn’t help feeling thoroughly unnerved, still.

Like most things with his sister, force of nature that she was, Linus supposed all he could really do at this point was settle in and watch things play out. And, maybe, possibly, ring Schroeder if things got dire.


End file.
